Gay Life
by KittyBits
Summary: It came as a big surprise, but also a big explanation. He was gay, of course he was. Now all he had to do was figure out what exactly that meant to him. So Spencer decided to do a bit of a field study. M/R SLASH. Three-shot.
1. The First Weary Steps

**Disclaimer: Not mine. Never will be. Very excited about the new season though!**

**Author's note: I love Sperek, I really, really do! I don't have anything else to say right now. Please enjoy.**

It came like a lightening bolt from a clear sky.

The Revelation.

The Realization.

The Explanation.

Spencer looked up from where his fingers was touching Officer Erickson's around the last foam cup by the coffee maker and into a handsome smiling face and his stomach did this strange _lurch._ He stammered and felt heat rush to his face but was waved off and the officer left him staring down at the now unimportant cup as he started to wonder if maybe his lack of interest in women wasn't explained by him being asexual but homosexual.

It made an awful lot of sense.

So he grabbed the cup, made a mental note to analyze the consequences of his realization, and went back to the small conference room where Prentiss and Rossi was fighting over the last donut.

He never thought of Officer Erickson as more than the married but handsome man that had made jolts of electricity run from his fingers to his toes by merely touching him.

If he could he would probably have forgotten his name at some time. Or the location and the reason he was there.

But to the great regret of his future partner he couldn't.

They solved the case, brought back the kidnapped babysitter and went back to Virginia where Spencer hurried back to his flat so he could think things over.

He was a homosexual.

That meant he preferred men over women romantically and sexually.

He was twenty-eight years old and a quick bit of clumsy research that would have made Garcia flinch led him to know that it wasn't unusually late for that sort of revelation.

Or maybe it was, but it wasn't late for telling his friends and family.

Coming out, as they called it.

He didn't feel ready to do that just yet, he realized. He had only acknowledged that he was gay, maybe he should do some more thorough looking in to it than just researching it on the Internet. He knew he was fairly bad with computers, and he rarely used his laptop for more than reading articles online and writing his own.

He decided to do a field study.

Or as he called it in his own head, take his theoretical homosexuality and see if it would stand being tested practically.

He thought himself very clever with his approach.

Then he realized he was still to do the hard part, because really – where could one find homosexuals? Where did they work?

He stared blankly at his computer for a few minutes the next morning while he tried remembering ever reading something about the occupation of homosexuals, but his attempts were fruitless.

So he did what he always did when he was doing some research he wasn't equipped to do on his own; he went to the library.

A youngish woman was busy typing on one of the computers when Spencer burst into the big room and she briefly looked up, only to burst into a big smile when she recognized the stressed man.

"Spencer," she called in the hushed voice all librarians seemed to master and waved him over to her, quickly wrapping up the writing she was doing on the computer. "What can I do for you?" she asked and Spencer noted how she pushed her bosom out slightly at him.

He ignored it.

"I have a question that I can't seem to answer myself," he admitted and the library looked suitably surprised. He had quite the reputation at the library as the man who knew everything about everything.

"And what is that?" she asked and leaned forward. Spencer would be able to see her bra if his eyes left her face.

"Where do homosexuals work?"

Her eyes widened in shock and disbelief and Spencer wondered for a moment why her entire body language changed so drastically.

"I mean men," he added and blushed, when he realized the librarian must have misunderstood him. "Where do gay men work?"

She relaxed after a while even if she did look a big regretful.

Spencer would have felt sorry for apparently leading her on if only he wasn't so preoccupied with the discovery and further investigation of his homosexuality.

"I think my hair dresser's gay," she said with a small smile. "He has a salon downtown, I'm just gonna write down his number," she opened some drawers and found a note pad and a pencil, quickly putting down some numbers and an address before ripping the note off. "He's a really great hair stylist but he gives off this vibe, you know? Of course you don't," she added when she apparently noticed Spencer's facial expression.

He had no idea of what 'vibe' the hair dresser was giving off.

He was eager to find out and took the note of the table and smile his thanks.

"He's also very popular," the librarian added thoughtfully and Spencer had to fight the surge of impatience soaring through his body.

"Is that so?" he asked without interest.

"I should probably call and book a time for you, I doubt he'll want to fit you in if he thinks you're just some random stranger. It could be weeks before he has an open time and you have your own schedule to take care off, I'm sure." Spencer nodded eagerly and the woman failed at hiding her amusement.

"It would be great," he said and shifted his weight nervously. "My schedule is actually very busy. And it changes all the time."

"I'll see if I can get him to see you today then, shall I?" Spencer nodded and she gestured for him follow as she went into the back room, where a telephone was placed next to a note saying 'No personal calls during working hours'.

She obviously ignored the note.

Spencer was a bit offended for the one who had bothered to put it up, but brushed the feeling off as the call connected.

"Hi Anthony, it's Carla! How are you? That sounds great... Yeah, of course I'm fine too! Listen, An, a friend of mine was asking me whether... He really... Emergency?" the librarian, who apparently was called Carla, a fact that Spencer hadn't picked up during his years of touring the library, glanced at his hair and smiled thoughtfully. "You'll want to rip your eyes out, that's how bad it is... Great... Perfect! I'll tell him right away. I'll see you next week." She hung up and smiled to Spencer.

"So?"

"He'll see you just before closing time today, so be there before five or he'll mess up my hair next time I go as revenge and then I'll have to give you a ton of fake fees to take my pain out on you."

"That's illegal," Spencer said, wide-eyed with shock.

"So should your haircut be."

Spencer spent the rest of the day until five walking the streets and staring at himself mirrored in the windows of the shops he passed.

His hair didn't look that bad, he mused in front of a women's clothing store and pulled at one of the long tendrils of hair. It wasn't like he had meant for his hair to look like this, he just hadn't had time to have a haircut for a while and then the whole sexuality-revelation happened and his priorities had never revolved around his appearance before, as both Garcia and Morgan had noted on several occasions.

Appearance was secondary to knowledge.

Appearance was secondary to a whole lot of things actually.

He wondered if he had to get the haircut or if the hairdresser was interested in just telling him about being gay and where he could meet other gay men, which was the next thing to do on his gay field study.

The salon was located in a lime green building and the inside was kept in a odd nuance of orange, that Spencer hadn't experienced before and found to be soothing and inspiring.

"You must be Carla's friend," a thin man with what Spencer assumed was perfectly styled hair and a very tight shirt exclaimed and sashayed around the counter.

"Yes, I'm Spencer Reid, I frequent the library she works- ouch!" The hairdresser had grabbed him by the chin and twisted Spencer's head from side to side while he assessed the haircut with a poorly disguised sneer.

"An emergency, indeed," he muttered to himself before letting Spencer's chin go. "My name is Anthony, you may call me An, and I'm going to save your life!"

And then Spencer was ushered into an ornage armchair which proved to be surprisingly comfortable and then his vision was momentarily obscured as a enormous piece of cloth blocked his sight before it was tightened around his neck and fell softly around him, covering both him and the chair.

"So what do you do?" Anthony asked and started spraying Spencer's curls.

"Um, I'm an FBI-agent," he answered slightly dizzy with the quick pace the hairdresser kept.

"That sounds exciting," he gushed and pulled a comb from a stand next to him. He started combing Spencer's hair. "So what do you do with the FBI?"

"I'm a profiler," Spencer said and tried to collect enough courage to ask the question he had been thinking about the entire day. He found it surprisingly hard. Somehow Anthony managed to be just as intimidating as Hotch and scared him more than Hankel had.

"And what does a _profiler_ do then? And are FBI-agents really allowed to look like druggies?"

"I catch serial killers and they don't really care how I look just as long as I'm able to do my job," Spencer snapped, hurt by the drug-addict comment. "Are you gay?"

He wasn't ready to ask the question he realized, but, he mused, it was better to talk about something else than his past drug abuse.

"I sure am, honey," Anthony said and flashed Spencer a smile before reaching down and picking up a pair of scissors. "Why, would you like a date?" He winked.

Spencer carefully took in the hairdresser's appearance, the hair, the shirt, the evenly tanned skin.

"I don't think you're my type," he finally concluded.

Anthony stopped combing and slowly met Spencer's eyes in the mirror.

"You're gay?" he asked, a disbelieving smile playing with the corners of his mouth.

"Theoretically, yes. I'm testing to see if I am attracted to men as a rule and I need to go somewhere where there'll be other gay men that I can converse with so I can asses my immediate attraction."

Spencer didn't care for the mask of poorly hidden amusement Anthony was sporting.

"I," he started and took a deep breath. Spencer suspected it was to withhold his laughter. "Let me just get this straight. You think you're gay-"

"I'm quite sure that I am-"

"-and you want me to tell me where you can meet other gay men?"

"Yes," Spencer said, keeping firm eye contact in the mirror. The other man still looked amused but not as disbelieving.

"Have you tried a gay bar?"

"I'm not very fond of bars."

"Pity, most gay men are. It's the best place to meet potential romantic interests, if you know what I mean." Anthony winked and Spencer gave him a small but knowing smile back.

He had no idea what he meant.

"Look, there's a gay bar right down the corner, I'll show you where when I'm done." The scissors started snipping with a speed that managed to terrify Spencer. He had thought the hairdresser would let him go when he realized his real goal with seeing him.

"Do you have to cut my hair?" he asked, ashamed to hear how pitiful it sounded.

"Sweety, you're a gay man now – you can't run around looking like a hobo. I'll probably even have to bring you back to my place and force you into some decent clothing first."

"I really don't think that would be a good idea. It would only make me feel uncomfortable and self conscious and that would affect the outcome of the evening in ways I won't be able to predict."

Anthony watched him ramble with a raised eyebrow.

"You done yet?" he asked, his voice drier than a desert. Spencer could only nod. "Okay, I won't take you home and dress you up, but I forbid you to wear you knitted vest."

Spencer grabbed his vest under the cover.

"Fine," he muttered and let himself pout.

The fell into silence, comfortable on Anthony's part, horrified on Spencer's as he watched all his hair being cut off and fall to the floor.

"Is this fashionable?" Spencer asked after a while.

"Very. And it'll make you look all kinds of cute."

"It looks like I haven't had a haircut in weeks."

He was being petulant, he was aware.

He also didn't care.

"It looks casually cool. The boys down the bar will be all over you. Or they would be if you let me clothe you too." Anthony narrowed his eyes at the mirror and Spencer looked away to escape the disapproval.

"I don't think I'll be able to handle too much interest," he said under his breath and Anthony chuckled.

"You'll love it," he declared and tousled Spencer's hair before unfastening the cover and pulling it off in a flourish motion. "What do you think?" he asked with a beaming smile.

"My neck's cold," Spencer complained and looked at the transformed face in the mirror. He supposed it did look flattering. It made him look younger at the very least.

He wasn't sure if that was a good thing.

"You don't know what you're talking about – you look ready to go out and get laid!" He went to put the cover away and therefore didn't see Spencer's flushed face.

Sex.

He hadn't thought about that yet.

The walk to the bar was brief and Spencer let Anthony do the talking, describing how he wanted Spencer to go to the bar and buy himself a drink while looking available and that he would watch over him from a distance so it didn't seem like they were together.

Spencer would have approved of his plan if hadn't been so preoccupied thinking about the sexual part of being homosexual.

He was also worried that he hadn't thought about it before.

And suddenly he was standing all alone at the bar, a barkeeper looking at him with an amused smile while he stuttered his way through ordering a coke.

He discreetly assessed the establishment while the bartender fetched his soda and noted that while the music was louder and several people were dancing even at the early hour, he was already liking the bar better than any of those Morgan had brought him to.

It had probably something to do with the fact that the only women in the bar were a couple who looked pretty cozy by a table in the back. All the others were men.

Apparently gay men, if he was to believe Anthony.

Judging by the way the men on the dance floor were moving and the others' distinct lack of disgust he found it to be very likely.

The bartender came back with his coke and winked when Spencer quickly took a deep gulp.

He just wasn't used to bars.

He was already starting to feel weird, sitting at the bar all alone.

"You know," a voice suddenly said next to him, and Spencer looked up from his coke and into the face of a smiling man with dirty blond hair, "I've been checking you out since you got here, and I can't really seem to get a clear read on you." The man rested his chin in his hand, leaning heavily on the counter. His body language was open and inviting and suddenly Spencer remembered that he still hadn't really had the opportunity to consider the sexual part of being homosexual.

Bot enough anyway.

"No?" he found him self to say, in what he realized was probably the poorest attempt to communicate he had delivered since he learned to speak properly.

"No. Are you sure you're actually gay?"

He shrugged, he was still testing and therefore not equipped to answer the question.

The stranger probably didn't want to know about his field study anyway.

"Can I get you a drink?"

Out of the corner of his eye Spencer noticed Anthony grinding against someone on the dance floor. He winked to Spencer who hurriedly turned his attention back to the man next to him and said, "sure," with a matching nod.

The man lit into a big grin.

"Barkeep," he exclaimed and waved his arm to gain the bartender's attention. "I need two Cowboy Cocksuckers, one for me and one for my new friend."

Spencer felt his cheeks warm at the name of the drink and when the bartender rolled his eyes at him it grew even worse.

Was he really going to drink something called a _Cowboy Cocksucker_?

Bought to him by a stranger?

"I'm Martin by the way," the stranger said and held out his hand.

"Spencer," Spencer said after a brief pause and shook the hand.

It was a firm handshake. Dry and with just enough pressure to not make it seem like a test of strength. People who claimed they could judge a character by his handshake would love it. Spencer wondered how it would be like to get a handjob by it.

Then he blushed again and gratefully accepted the shot glass filled with milky brown liquid in front of him.

The shot wasn't very strong but he could still taste the alcohol and decided to be more careful.

Martin was smiling to him.

"So you do shots like a real man, huh?" he said with a teasing smile and threw back his own shot. "Did you like it?"

Spencer considered that for a while. "Yeah," he decided.

He realized he wasn't exactly encouraging the conversation and bit his lip trying to come up with something to say.

He could only come up with sex related topics and thought that that probably wouldn't be the best thing to bring up so early in the conversation.

Martin didn't agree.

"So now that I'm sure that you're gay I still wonder one thing." Spencer looked at him, silently encouraging him to continue while taking a sip of his coke. "Top or bottom?"

Spencer snorted the coke up his nose in surprise and the bartender hurried over, donating several napkins to the grateful and embarrassed FBI-agent.

Martin was trying to fight his laugh. "Does that mean bottom?"

"No," Spencer said in a scratchy voice. His nose hurt from the fizzy drink.

"So you're a top?" Martin looked surprised.

"No, I mean – I'm not sure about it. I'm not sure about anything, I only just realized I was gay a few days ago, and this is my first day where I'm able to be and act gay and spend the entire day trying to figure out where to meet gay men so I could get some observations on what it's like. Perhaps some good advise. My field study was spent walking round town, knowing that my hair looks ridiculous-"

"I think it looks nice-"

"That's because I got a haircut by a man who told me I looked like a drug addict and tried to take me home to his place so I would wear something else when I went to this bar but I refused him, so he made me take off my sweater vest and I'm still not sure if I'm just a theoretical gay of if I'm practicing too."

"So you're a virgin?"

"Well, once there were this woman called Anita-"

"Gay-virgin," Martin clarified, and Spencer could only nod. "Want to come to my place?"

Spencer narrowed his eyes. He wasn't expecting this turn of events. He hadn't expected the break-down he had experienced and even less that it would lead to an invitation to...

"To have sex?"

"Sure. We'll start out light – a handjob, maybe you'd want to try and reciprocate – and if you want to we can take it further?"

"So you want to have sex with me?"

Of course he had to make sure. He had just done the opposite of everything Morgan had ever told him about picking up women, and he was pretty sure that _game_ was something you needed to go well with both sexes.

"I do. You have this cute nerdy quality, and I'm really into smart guys."

"I am smart," Spencer confirmed, pleasingly surprised that people could be into intellect. He hadn't experienced that before.

"Well then, aren't we a lucky pair? I found a smart nerd and you found a nice guy who just _aches_ to bring you home and break you into the lifestyle of the ass-pirates."

"The what?"

"Aren't you just the cutest!" Spencer was grabbed by the hand and gently led out of the bar. He caught Anthony's eyes just before he left and hoped that the hairdresser would remember him if Martin turned out to be an UnSub.

Then he started thinking about sex again.


	2. Baby Steps

**Disclaimer: Right, as if I have that kind of money... I really wish I had though.**

**Author's Note: Aw! You guys! You are just the sweetest ever! I can't believe the reception this story received, I'm literally blown away! Just look at all the exclamation marks I have to use :O My love for you can't be described in words, and since I can't sing you a song over ff. net I won't try. But I'm very humbled by your enthusiasm and hope you'll like this and the last chapter equally as much (exclamation mark).**

So apparently he hadn't needed to stress so much over the physical aspect.

Gay sex was very fulfilling and Martin had showed to be more than a capable partner.

"You're very flexible," the man said and Spencer smiled at the ceiling, silently appreciating the irony in Martin talking right when he though about him.

"I'm not very well coordinated so one of my colleagues offered to take me to her yoga class. It strengthens the musculature as well as improves your flexibility and while I still can't seem to put down any of the guys when we spar in the gym, it doesn't hurt as much. And mostly I never even get to breathe heavily before the fight is over."

Spencer couldn't quite decide on how to categorize the silence that fell on them.

It could be stunned, but awkward was a definite possibility too.

"What exactly is it that you do?" Martin then asked tentatively and Spencer thought a stunned silence was the most likely choice.

"I work at the FBI. I'm a profiler at the BAU."

"Should I know what that is?"

"Depends on how much serial killers and criminals all over the country interest you. Or worry you." The ceiling was white, but if he looked closely he could see faint outlines, like someone had put stickers on it once and then taken them down after an unknown amount of time.

"Not a lot," Martin said beside him and moved around a bit.

"Then it would be unlikely for you to know about us." The cotton bedding was nice and soft. It felt pleasant against his hot skin. Cool almost.

If this was pillow talk he didn't think he had missed out on a lot.

"Do you like it?"

"It's not really a question of liking it or not, it's more that no one would be able to do my job as well as I do it. If I quit innocent people would inevitably die."

Maybe he was doing it wrong.

Did gay people pillow talk anyway, or was it just one of the things that Garcia would gush about when she was in one of her moods?

Was pillow talk a verb?

"I'm a kindergarten teacher," Martin said. Spencer didn't know what he should say to that.

"Am I supposed to leave now?" his mouth asked. He realized he had been wondering that ever since they had finished.

"It's Friday night, you can stay some time if you want to, I won't mind." Spencer turned his head and found Martin smiling to him. "I wouldn't say no if you wanted to go another round. Or two."

So they did.

And they even went for a third, a fourth, and a fifth round before Spencer left, and then he only did it because he realized his cell phone had died sometime during Saturday, and he wanted JJ to be able to reach him at all hours.

Martin didn't let Spencer leave his apartment before he had recited his phone number seven times and promised solemnly to call him if he should ever want to 'have a hot, sweaty gay get-together' again, as Martin so eloquently put it.

He called him the following day. They met the following Thursday when the team had finally gotten some time off.

Spencer had been a bit annoyed by their reaction to his new hairstyle, but he managed not to let it affect his contributions to the team.

And then they let it go and his new haircut was the norm and every other day he would call Martin and they would meet up and do something together. Sometimes they would hang out at one of their apartments, sometimes they went out for dinner, and a few times they went dancing.

Every time they ended up having sex.

It didn't scare Spencer at all anymore.

Martin on the other hand could be more than a bit terrifying. He had slowly moved his way in to every aspect of Spencer's life, bar his job, and soon all Spencer's embarrassing 'Star Movies' were hidden in a cabinet next to his TV and his couch were decorated with cute little cushions in warm colors.

And then Martin started going through Spencer's clothes.

"Spencer, would you please, please, please get rid of some of those awful vests of yours? They don't look becoming on anyone, not even you," Martin said and sent Spencer a pleading smile from the closet and Spencer couldn't help but wonder just how their 'date' had turned into Martin inspecting his wardrobe. Which apparently was lacking to a shocking degree.

"If I got rid of my clothes, then what would I wear?" Spencer asked. He didn't like to point out the flaw in Martin's plan but he had to wear something.

Martin just smiled.

Spencer was reminded of the time Garcia and Morgan had forced him to watch Jaws with them. They had gagged him so he wouldn't comment on the absurdity of the plot and the shark's behavior.

Martin was almost as scary as Garcia had been then.

Fortunately he was safe at work.

Of course, he would sometimes catch Prentiss or Morgan looking at him funnily, but it was easily dismissed and Spencer somehow always managed to have a taller stack of waiting paperwork to finish than any of his colleagues.

Cheaters.

And then one morning his job proved to be less of a safe haven.

"Good morning, my sweet," Garcia greeted and rested against the corner of Spencer's desk. Spencer looked up to greet her back, when a glint in her eye made the words in his mouth disappear and his tongue swell up to twice it's normal size.

Or at least it felt that way.

And why was he surrounded only by the human equivalent of sharks?

"Good morning, Garcia," he said tentatively.

"You'll never guess what I realized this morning," she challenged, stubbornly holding his gaze.

It was actually impossible to look away.

"Probably not," Spencer said and swallowed. "Thoughts are a very fickle thing."

"AHA!" He was scared. Garcia looked terrifying, righteousness shining from every pore of her being. "Something is different! You didn't spout some statistics about how many thoughts people have every second of their life-"

"Well, actually-"

"You've gotten a girlfriend, haven't you? Someone with balls enough to tell when to ramble and when not to – don't tell me I'm wrong because I know I'm right!" And she was. Except for the obvious error concerning Martin's sex and the fact that they weren't dating, but merely gay friends with benefits.

"Um," he said.

"Who is she? How long have you been together?" Spencer averted her eyes and discovered to very interested Supervisory Special Agents watching the exchange. Prentiss looked very amused, resting her chin in her hand and the papers in front of her temporarily abandoned, Morgan's face was unreadable and he was tapping his pen impatiently. "Eyes on the prize, Baby Face," Garcia said and forced him to look at her with a firm grip on his jaw.

Her clawing fingers made him purse his lips.

"I don't have a girlfriend," Spencer intended to say, but his words was obscured so all Garcia was left with was "Ion'd ha' a gurlfiend," to which she chuckled merrily.

"Oh, my sweet Prince in shining armor, you cannot lie to me! I will find out who this mystery girl is, even if it is the last thing I'll do!"

And she sauntered of with a loud cackle and Spencer was heartbroken to realize that he was now only safe when he was home alone in his apartment.

And he had taken quite a liking to being with other people lately.

So he went out with Morgan and Prentiss instead.

Both were more than surprised when he was the one asking them if they wanted to go to a bar, but he expected he had a better chance of getting positive responses if he chose a scene they were used to, the odds that they would agree to join him for an evening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show might be pretty good but not nearly as good as every other possibility including alcoholic beverages. And Martin had showed him that bars didn't have to be the house of evil, loud music, and potential headaches.

And when he looked past the bad beer and the loud, just as bad music, it actually turned out to be a quite pleasant experience, just to hang out with two of his friends.

For as long as that lasted, because the men at the table next to them were apparently lawyers and one of them had seen Prentiss at a big party once and soon it was just Morgan and Spencer with each their beer and amused smiles as they would sometimes glance at their coworker in deep discussion with her new-old acquaintance.

They sat and enjoy the music and watched the other people in the bar, occasionally exchanging observations or laughs when they noticed someone with extraordinarily obvious body language and Spencer started to wonder if he should text Martin and ask if he would come over later.

He was feeling a bit 'in the mood'.

"I think you could score tonight," Morgan said all of a sudden, and Spencer widened his eyes in surprise.

Had he said anything out loud?

"What do you mean?" he asked, slightly guarded.

"That blonde at the bar, with the brunette friend? She's been giving you _looks_." It was obvious that Morgan thought Spencer should be elated at the news that someone was sending him _looks_, but he just couldn't seem to muster the expected enthusiasm.

"I don't think so," he said and took a sip of beer. Morgan watched the bottle all the way from the table to Spencer's mouth and lingered a bit at his lips before following it back down.

Spencer felt a bit insulted that Morgan thought it such a wonder that he was drinking alcohol.

Martin's friends had long since introduced him to shots and such likes. Beer was water compared to the things they would make him drink. They had found it hilarious when he refused to partake in body shots in any way possible.

It was just so incredibly unhygienic.

"So Garcia was right after all," Morgan said and smiled brightly. A bit too brightly Spencer thought and again felt a jab of insult at the unlikeness that he should have met someone.

"I don't have a girlfriend," he repeated with enough finality to make Morgan shut up for... well, at least a short while.

"I'm aware that just because you see someone regularly it doesn't mean that you're dating. I know all about that type of relationship, man." Morgan winked and drank from his bottle, keeping firm eye contact with Spencer all along.

He shrugged when Morgan put the bottle down, and his friend laughed loudly.

Spencer had a nagging suspicion that he had somehow admitted to seeing someone without wanting to and being aware that he was.

He felt awfully stupid.

Martin was quick to reply to his text and Spencer excused himself, leaving Morgan who bid him goodbye with a somewhat stiff smile and an overly cheery wink.

The situation was overall pretty odd, Spencer found.

And it managed to get even odder.

"Spencer, we need to talk!" Martin pushed past Spencer and went into the living room, where he dropped down on the couch. He was fidgeting. Martin never fidgeted. He would smack Spencer over his fingers if he did even.

Martin was very maternal in his behavior at times.

His mother had been very distant in the raising of her five kids, and Martin had as the eldest taken upon himself to take care of his younger brother and sisters.

It had been a very emotional talk when Martin had told Spencer about it. The sex afterwards had been very passionate.

He took seat in the lone arm chair.

"Are you going to break it off?" he asked.

"What- no! Of course not, why would you think that?" Martin looked terrified at the idea.

"Well, as I've understood it, 'we need to talk' are often used right before one part ends the relationship. It was a logical conclusion that it would be a possibility that you came to end our agreement so-"

"I think I'm in love with you."

"Oh." Unexpected. "I'm sorry you feel that way, but this was always just about me getting used to be gay, I'm afraid I haven't even considered the emotional aspect of this."

"I wasn't expecting you to say that you loved me back," Martin confessed, his eyes firmly set on his feet. "I guess I kind of hoped you would though."

"I think we should end it," Spencer said evenly and rose from the chair to go and sit next to Martin on the couch. He reached out and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

It felt incredibly awkward.

"Do we have to?" Martin asked in a thin voice and finally moved his eyes up to meet Spencer's gaze. He looked pitiful and pleading.

"I don't think it's healthy to be in a relationship where the involved parts aren't equally invested. I doubt that I'd be able to return your feelings even after more time. I find that I aren't attracted to you other than physically. No offense."

"None taken." Martin reached up and took the hand Spencer was resting on his shoulder. He enveloped it in his own. "Could we perhaps, you know, have sex one last time?"

"I don't think that would be a good idea, but I'm still reluctant to turn your offer down. We have proven to be very sexually compatible."

That was a white lie. Martin liked to both top and bottom, and even if Spencer had found that he preferred bottoming Martin had expressed such his great liking for the same position, Spencer found that he more often than not were doing the topping.

Which was of course still great, but not _as_ great.

Martin quickly stood and pulled Spencer to his feet, pressing him against his chest and mashing their lips together in a bruising kiss.

"Would it be alright if I thought of it as 'making love' and not 'having sex'?" he murmured against Spencer's lips. "Just in my mind, when I think about it and stuff? Which I will. Probably while eating lots of ice cream and watching bad romantic comedies."

"Again, I don't think it would be a good idea, but if you can keep it inside your head it probably won't be a problem. And don't mourn us too long."

"I won't."

And they kissed their way to the bedroom, where Spencer topped and made slow and caring love to Martin who would sometimes shed a tear and cup Spencer's cheek, just looking into his eyes.

It was all a bit too emotional and Spencer was secretly relieved when Martin left in the morning, taking with him the toothbrush Spencer had arranged for him and the cushions from the couch.

Spencer was maybe a tad too happy about the cushion part, than was suitable the situation considering.

Life continued.

It was to his great surprise and horror that Spencer realized three weeks later that he always had sex on his mind, and was practically longing for another man's touch.

Suddenly every man he saw was a potential bedmate and every glance and smile could be interpreted as an invitation and Spencer was so stressed out by his suddenly teenaged hormones that he found himself in a gay club downtown a Saturday night after a gruesome case where some psycho had kidnapped a small girl after driving around killing off people in California.

Morgan had been very affected by the case which had affected Reid.

He needed an outlet.

The loud music and the grinding bodies were quick to bring his mind on other things, as Spencer fought to keep off the most curious hands and the headache that lured just around the corner.

But he was having fun.

And suddenly not so much fun anymore, because right in front of him on the dance floor stood one Penelope Garcia with a grin to end all grins.

His heart dropped.

Not literally of course.

"SPENCER REID," Garcia yelled over the music. "YOU COME WITH ME RIGHT NOW, YOUNG MAN." And then she dragged him from the dance floor and to the bathrooms where she pushed him into the handicap toilet before Spencer could protest and point out that people were watching them and obviously getting the wrong idea.

He hadn't even noticed that the club had a handicap bathroom before.

She pushed him down on the closed toilet and loomed over him, hand on her hips.

"You're gay," Garcia exclaimed, her voice slightly too loud in the sudden silence.

"What makes you think that?" Spencer asked. Garcia raised her eyebrows in a movement that made him feel thoroughly scolded. "Okay, so maybe I am."

"OH MY GOD!" The squeal made his ears ring. "How come you haven't told me before? I already have tons of gay friends, I could have introduced you to them! And no, why didn't you tell me? Didn't you think you could trust me? How long have you known anyway? Does the team know? Answer all my questions, but start with why you didn't tell me before!"

"I guess I never thought to-"

"Oh my God! Your girlfriend weren't actually a girlfriend, was she? She was a he!"

"Well yes, but he wasn't my boyfriend, and now we've broken up."

"Oh no, Sweety Pie, I'm so sorry to hear that! Why?"

"He had fallen in love with me and I couldn't return his feelings."

"Oh." Spencer narrowed his eyes at his friend, suspecting that she had thought he had been the dumpée and not the dumper. "Well, then, who knows? Have you told anyone on the team yet?"

"The only ones I've told are my mother and the woman that works at the library. Long story," he added when he saw Garcia's confused expression.

"How long then?"

"You remember when I got my new haircut?"

"That long?"

"Yeah. Actually I was with Martin almost the entire time. I guess I shouldn't be surprised he develop feelings for me, he admitted that I was his type on the night that we met."

"Wait a minute," Garcia said and tapped her chin thoughtfully. "If you were with him for that long and didn't have any feelings for him. Then why were you with him?"

"It was purely sexual. I wanted to confirm that I was gay so I met him at a bar and he volunteered to introduce me to the sexual aspect and we turned out to be somehow compatible and so our relationship just continued." Garcia's eyes looked oddly glazed over. "Are you alright?" he asked carefully and leaned forward on the toilet.

"I don't think I am, Sugar Pants. You just completely burst my bubble." She waved Spencer away and sat heavily on the toilet's lid when he moved off of it. "Now how am Derek going to pop your man cherry if you fixed that little problem months ago?"

"Derek?" Spencer asked in a thin voice.

"But of course your non-virginity isn't going to mess the with perfection that the two of you will be when you get together."

Spencer wasn't sure if Garcia noticed how awkward the silence between them was. He thought it was suffocating and had to lean against the sink when his knees suddenly turned weak and wobbly.

"Derek?" he repeated and pulled Garcia from her happy reverie.

"Yes? It's going to be so much fun!"

"Why would we want to be together?" He really didn't understand anything coming from her at the moment.

She obviously didn't agree with his slow process of thought as her eyebrows shot up her forehead with disbelief.

"Are you kidding me? The UST between-"

"What's UST?"

"Unresolved Sexual Tension. Remind me to bring you into the 21st century one of the next days. Anyway, the UST between you guys is nearly killing me. Seeing you here makes me wonder just why you haven't broken under the pressure and had hot gay sex in the break room during a coffee break."

"But," Spencer objected. "Derek?"

"Yeah? Haven't you seen how he looks at you? He wants your cute skinny butt _badly_!"

And Spencer suddenly found himself thinking about sex.


	3. Stepping Freely

**Disclaimer: Not mine, blah blah. I have a headache though!**

**Author's Note: The last chapter of this little threeshot. I hope you've enjoyed the ride, I most certainly enjoyed writing and posting this. You guys are the best! **

**To the anon reviewer who pulled the zombie threat on me: Well played!**

It was actually very embarrassing that he hadn't put two and two together earlier. Spencer always looked up to find Morgan smiling to him. Morgan always brought back a perfectly fixed cup of coffee when he went to get a cup for himself. He was always free if Spencer wanted to do something and invited to him out at least once a week himself.

And then there were all the small and seemingly innocent touches.

The comforting hand on his shoulder. The pat on his back if he thought he had done good. The one-arm-hug if he wanted to tease him. The hug if he thought he needed it.

It was all there, clear as day, and Spencer really should have seen it. He was very disappointed in his skills as a profiler, even if they agreed never to profile each other.

But they did that all the time anyway. Profiling wasn't something you could just switch off!

And Morgan, his best friend, was so obviously in love with him that Spencer wanted to bang his head against every wall in a five mile radius.

Every smile he received made him feel disappointed, frustrated, and so very bad.

He didn't reciprocate.

What was he supposed to do?

When he thought about it, the best thing to do was keep up the status quo and keep a level of friendly banter and inside jokes with Morgan and not flinch away when he touched him, even if it did stir all sorts of unwanted emotions.

He was still his best friend.

Spencer still loved him dearly.

He just wasn't in love with him, and he really didn't want to destroy the friendship they had by being confronting the apparent infatuation he just couldn't return.

Not that he didn't know that Morgan was a very attractive man and that he would probably have had several fantasies starring him if it wasn't for the irrevocable fact that he was _Morgan_ and therefore not an option.

It was almost incest as it was.

And that did not change from knowing that apparently Spencer was starring in his fantasies.

It was just very, very wrong.

He wasn't going to spend less time with him. He had to be as discreet about his new knowledge as possible and that meant keeping up his act as usual.

So he went to bars with Morgan a lot. Because that was their new thing and it never ceased to amaze and amuse his friend when he finished a beer and ordered a new one without slurring or stuttering or hiccuping.

Spencer used to get drunk embarrassingly fast.

He didn't anymore, so he accepted yet again when Morgan asked if he wanted a beer after they were off a Thursday afternoon about two weeks of self-loathing and knowing that in their friendship one wanted it to turn friendlier than it already was.

It started innocently enough but then Spencer bought their second round and Morgan had collected the needed courage to ask the question that he had obviously been aching to ask for quite some time.

"Not that I don't appreciate you going out with me, so this is definitely not a complaint, but how come you agree to go out so much recently?" he asked, again seemingly innocent, but Spencer detected the hidden depths of the question. He was quite certain that it had something to do with Morgan's crush on him.

"I just fee like it, I guess," he replied vaguely and took a careful sip from his beer. His alcohol tolerance was growing and now he actually found the taste of beer pleasant. Who would have thought that he would ever enjoy going to a bar?

"You just feel like it? That's a bull-shit answer, you are aware of that, right?" Morgan was sporting a teasing smile but it didn't seem like he wasn't going to let it go.

"It's the only reply I can give," Spencer said with a shrug.

"Riiight. But what do you girlfriend think about you going out so much? And why don't you bring her along? I think I talk for all of us when I express my curiosity and want to meet her. Garcia won't stop conspiring about her." Spencer furrowed his brow in thought.

"Garcia's still trying to figure out who it is?" he asked. That didn't make sense considering that she knew they had already broken up. Morgan drank from his beer before replying.

"Of course she is. It's taking up all of her spare time. She hardly ever talks about anything else anymore – it gets a bit tiring if it wasn't because I'm equally as curious." He looked contemplative for e second. "Well, she doesn't talk so much about it anyway, but still!" Morgan bit his lip absentmindedly and everything made more sense to Spencer.

"We've broken up," he said calmly.

"You have? Man, I'm so sorry, do you want to talk about it?" Compassion and concern rushed to Morgan's features. They were accompanied by a hint of curiosity.

"Not really. But you can ask about it anyway, I can see how much you want to."

"I'm just worried for you is all.," Morgan explained but he knew better. "When did you split?"

"Not that long ago. About a month, a little longer." He shrugged.

"A bit more than a month and you didn't tell me? Come on, Pretty Boy! It's universally known that when a man is dumped his buddies take him out so he can drown his sorrows and hit on someone completely out if his league without anyone thinking badly about it."

"I wasn't the one who got dumped."

"You weren't?" Morgan's eyes widened in surprise. Spencer felt a bit hurt by it.

"Why does everybody think I was the one getting dumped? It was Martin who developed feelings for me not the other way around!" he exclaimed, frustrated that everybody always thought of him as the victim.

"WHAT?" Morgan almost choked on his beer and stared at Spencer with an unreadable look on his face. "You girlfriend was a man?" he asked.

"He wasn't my boyfriend and most definitely not my girlfriend, Morgan. What we had was purely physical. Or at least it was until he fell in love with me." Stupid Martin for ruining it.

Spencer just wanted to have some sex!

It was positively addictive and it wasn't unhealthy or hurtful as other things.

"He fell in love with you?" Morgan's voice held a note of pity, and for the first time during their conversation Spencer registered that he wasn't the one being pitied. Morgan felt sorry for Martin, he realized. He probably even understood him, considering his own feelings.

_Awkward._

"Yeah. I didn't return his feelings," he explained.

"Wow, man. I don't really know what to say though... I'm sorry?"

"You don't look sorry." He really didn't. The pity had waned and left was an expression of amazement and hope.

"Yeah, sorry about that too, I guess I'm just a bit surprised by all this... Does this mean you're gay?" Morgan narrowed his eyes a bit, looking thoughtful while still keeping the hopeful glint in his eyes.

"I believe so, yes."

A stupid question, really, but Morgan was his best friend and Spencer felt obligated to guide him through their conversation slowly and carefully so he understood everything that happened.

"Wow."He stared deeply down his bottle. "Well, just remember I'm here for you if you need to talk or anything."He looked up from the beer with a curiously shy look.

"Thank you, I'll remember that." Spencer smiled.

"Do that. Because I'm always available if you need it. I'm here for you man." Morgan grew a smile to match Spencer's. Something fluttered in his chest.

"I know, you just said."

"I guess I did. But, hey, I mean it." Morgan slung an arm over Spencer's shoulder and beamed at him.

"Of course you do." Morgan's bright smile made something churn in Spencer's stomach and he couldn't help but notice just how very handsome his friend was.

And it felt surprisingly nice to sit tucked against the broad chest like that.

He shrugged of the feeling for the rest of the night. But it was difficult. Morgan seemed to want to include him in everything that he did, and when he turned down a pair of eagerly giggling and well endowed young women's request because Spencer previously had told him that he didn't like to dance he had felt obligated to get up with his friend and 'bust some moves' on the heavily populated dance floor.

He had experienced several disturbing physiological reactions to his friend's close proximity while dancing.

He tried vehemently to ignore it. He failed.

And the weird sensations and thoughts continued even after they went home and when they resumed working the following day.

Spencer developed a theory that now Morgan knew he was single and a homosexual he went out of his way to be close to him, talk to him, and help him in every small task he would come across.

And Spencer of course appreciated his helpfulness. And he was aware that he was being flashed Morgan's most handsome and effective 'panty dropper'-smile on several occasions. He wasn't surprised that he would react to it – it was after all Morgan's most effective weapon.

He didn't exactly like the sudden state of arousal happening in his workplace, but he was a healthy young man who had gone from a regular and active sex life to none at all.

It was frustrating.

And Derek was there all the time, always had been.

He always knew how to put a smile on his face, even when Spencer himself thought it impossible. He always had his back, even when Spencer thought it unnecessary. And yes, that was annoying as hell sometimes, but when he later realized just how close he had been it was hard not to feel a certain degree of appreciation and affection for his faithful friend.

He was his best friend.

There weren't a single thing about Derek that he didn't like. His protectiveness, his concern, his friendly teasing and the way he would tell him to shut up when he got really heated about something he didn't care about. His big brown eyes, his expressive eyebrows. His muscular arms and broad chest.

His delectable ass.

Derek had the whole packet and Spencer loved him, always had, always would.

Of that he was certain.

And that was when Spencer dropped his almost empty coffee cup and spilled lukewarm coffee on his almost clean trousers. Because, he just realized that he returned Derek's feelings and probably had before Derek even knew he had them.

He groaned loudly in his otherwise empty kitchen and grabbed a damp towel before dropping to his knees and carefully drying the spilled coffee.

He was in love with his best friend.

How incredibly ridiculous was that?

And what was he going to do about it?

Shit!

And then he flinched because he swore, sure it was in the safe compartments of his mind, but still. His mother hadn't cared for such language and he was a well behaved boy.

Who was in love with his best friend.

Ridiculous.

And back to what he was going to do about it.

He couldn't do a field study in this, could he? Probably not. How would he do that, it wasn't like there were more Derek Morgans out there. Derek was one of a kind, unique.

Dropping the dirty towel in the sink, Spencer sat down on a kitchen chair and tried to form a plan on how to act on his newly acquired realization.

What did he want to achieve?

Well, he wanted to be with Derek. He wanted to have him on his own.

He wanted to have sex with him.

Added up that meant that Spencer's goal was to be with Derek in an exclusive and physical relationship.

Fine.

Now, how to get there?

He already knew that Derek was attracted to him, even in love with him, so all he really had to do was tell him that he loved him too and then they would kiss and things usually evolved from there on.

How was he going to tell him? Spencer was aware that he had to cut his plan into small phases and plan them out in detail, otherwise there were too many things that could go wrong.

He could do it at work, but it would be awkward with all of their coworkers around and he didn't want the pressure of a probable public rejection.

And he just realized he didn't even the nerves to consider rejection a possibility.

Telling if they went out would be weird too, because they usually went to bars where the music drowned out half their conversations or restaurants where the mood all too easily could turn into that of a date, which he had had with Martin, and he really didn't want to think about him at the moment.

He could invite him home, though. He could cook for him – or order some takeout as it would probably end up being – and they would casually eat their dinner in the living room while a DVD were playing on the TV and Spencer would just throw out that he knew that Derek was in love with him and that he returned his feelings.

Spencer stopped fidgeting with the hem of his shirt and looked out his window on the dark street down below.

It was probably the best way to do that, he decided.

He grabbed his cell phone, and after deciding that it was allowed to call his friend at 9.15 he found the needed number and proceeded to call him up.

The call connected simultaneously with a very familiar melody starting somewhere a bit away. He frowned and walked towards the sound, patiently waiting for Derrek to answer on the other end.

"_Yeah?" _a metallic voice sounded from the phone as the melody stopped and Spencer found himself in front of his door.

Curious.

"Hey D-Morgan, it's Reid. I just wondered if you wanted to come over tomorrow night for some takeout and a movie?"

"_Yeah, sure. That sounds great._" A muffled voice came out from the hall and Spencer looked out the peephole.

"Oh, and Morgan, why are you out in my hall?"

"_I... um... I was in the neighborhood?_"

Spencer hung up and opened the door to one sheepish looking Derek Morgan, who still had his phone pressed to his ear.

"Sup?" he greeted and Spencer smiled and stepped to the side, so his friend could enter. This was going to be so easy!

"So, what were you doing in my neighborhood?" Spencer asked as they entered the living room. He gestured at the couch and dropped into his armchair, smiling up at his best friend who shifted his weight from foot to foot and silently refused to sit.

He was obviously nervous about something.

"Spencer, I'm in love with you," Derek blurted, let out a rushed breath, and closed his eyes. Spencer rose from the chair and wondered why people would want to confess their love if they were so sure to be rejected, but then again, most people didn't think and act as rationally as he did.

Unfortunately.

"I knew that already," he said calmly and watched as Derek's eyes flew open.

"You knew?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes. You aren't hiding it very well apparently. Garcia made me realize, and she isn't even a profiler."

"Garcia only knew because I told her.," Derek defended and Spencer shrugged.

"Well, then you should probably consider who to tell important things like that before blurting it to anybody. And I'm pretty sure Hotch has realized on his own, he is a better profiler than any of us."

"He really is." Derek watched Spencer intently, impatiently, and Spencer wondered if he had somehow missed something. "Aren't you going to say anything?"

"About what?"

"The fact that I just confessed my love for you?" It sounded like Derrek wanted to roll his eyes, but he didn't.

"Oh, yes. Well, I love you too." Spencer smiled. Partly because it was nice to finally let his feelings out in the open, but mostly because it looked like Derek's eyes were going to pop out any minute.

Figuratively, of course. It wasn't physically possible to open your eyes enough for th eyeballs to fall out.

"You do?" Derek asked in a small voice.

"Yes. I have for years."

"Really? What did your boyfriend think about that?" Derek narrowed his eyes. Spencer shrugged.

"He wasn't my boyfriend and he didn't know. I didn't even realize until after Garcia told me about your attraction to me. Emotions aren't my strong point," he added with a small apologizing smile.

"You got that right," Derek muttered and stared at Spencer oddly.

Nothing happened for a while.

"So what now?" Spencer asked.

"I don't know. Am I your boyfriend? Or do you just don't do in boyfriends?" The twitching in the corners of Derek's revealed his amusement.

"You aren't exactly a boy," Spencer said in a deadpan voice and let his eyes run down Derek's very impressive body. He had thought about it quite a lot the last couple of weeks.

Sex too.

"Then you can be my boyfriend, and I'll be your mature experienced lover," Derek said, and Spencer looked up to find his previously best friend and now something more grin back at him.

"That would be more convincing if I could believe that you have had relations with a man before, but I doubt that you ever trusted a man enough to let him into your bed, all things considering." He tilted his head and fixed Derek with a teasing smile.

"I though we agreed not to profile each other.," Derek said, and the way he furrowed his brow exposed his discomfort.

Spencer always prided himself with his ability to read body language. Why he couldn't read people's more complex emotions puzzled him to no end.

"I'm not trying to. I'm just saying that I'm actually more of an experienced lover if we keep solely to intercourse between two men. But don't worry, I won't call you my boyfriend."

"I'll call you my boyfriend anyway then. And what will you call me?" It seemed like Derek had something short of an issue on the label front, Spencer mused. He felt a sudden urge to be cute about it, just to throw Derek off of it.

"What about Derek?" he asked innocently, and a smile grew on his lips when Derek couldn't help but smile at his antics.

"Very funny."

"I thought so too," he said with a wink.

"Are we ever going to kiss?" Derek asked, suddenly impatient, and his eyes strayed briefly to Spencer's lips.

"We most certainly are." Spencer managed to smirk even as Derek's lips descended upon his, but then he got lost in the sensations.

And thought about sex.


End file.
